


Kink Two: Asphyxiation

by ChasingRabbits, thepinupchemist



Series: Cas and Dean’s Excellent Kink-venture [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asphyxiation, BDSM, Bottom Castiel, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Fluff and Smut, Kink Negotiation, Kinky Castiel, Kinky Dean, M/M, Porn, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingRabbits/pseuds/ChasingRabbits, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinupchemist/pseuds/thepinupchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas begin compiling a list of kinks that they'd like to try. Next on the menu: Cas' penchant for having a hand on his throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kink Two: Asphyxiation

Dean gets off work right at five. This affords him enough time to go home, scrub all the grease and grime off in the shower, and catch beer and a nap on the couch before he has to pick up Cas from the shop.

The first time Dean ever stepped foot in Holy Grounds was on a whim. He’d just helped a guy with a dead battery on the interstate, that’s all. When the guy fished a business card out of his pocket and told Dean to stop in for a free coffee and a crumb cake as a thank you, he’d never expected to take him up on it. But then he passed it one day on his way home from Sammy’s and nearly crashed into the Lexus in front of him.

The shop itself is actually two storefronts merged into one. The one side is a used bookstore, where one can almost certainly always find Castiel, balancing his books and working on inventory between helping customers; the other side is a coffee shop, where one will always find the best pastries and the best coffee known to humankind.

There you will also probably find Gabriel, Castiel’s older brother, who is the sole baker in the establishment.

Tonight, through the window of Holy Grounds, Dean sees Cas sitting patiently behind the front counter, a labyrinth of bookshelves behind him, tapping his pencil on the legal pad in front of him, squinting at the paper as though it’s done him some egregious wrong.

Dean’s lips quirk up into a smile and he pushes his way inside.

The bell above the door announces his arrival, and Cas looks up.

“Hey, honey,” Dean greets. “Know where I can find a copy of the Kama Sutra?”

“Those don’t usually come in without a few pages stuck together,” Gabriel calls from his side of the shop.

Cas chuckles as Dean gripes, “I swear that fucker’s got bat ears.”

“What did you say about fat queers?” Gabriel replies loudly, and Castiel snorts.

“You’re early,” Cas checks his watch, because Cas is exacty the type of dweeb who still wears a watch.

“Few minutes,” Dean shrugs and plucks the cup of coffee, still warm, from right beside Castiel’s elbow. “Thought I’d hang out.”

Cas grins and leans over the counter to peck Dean on the lips.

“Closing shop isn’t the same without you here watching me do all the hard work,” he rests his jaw on his hand and gives Dean a sleepy smile. The shop is open until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays, and sometimes six days a week when KU is in the throes of finals. It was one thing when Cas was twenty-four and needed three winks of sleep in a night before he was up and ready to go again; it’s another now that he’s nearly thirty.

They both are.

Dean wrinkles his nose and puts the thought out of his mind, “What’re you working on?”

“I took some time to do a little research today,” Cas taps the legal pad with his pencil again, while Dean tips back some of Castiel’s milky coffee. “Using various sources I think I’ve compiled a pretty comprehensive of kinks we could possibly try.”

Dean has never actually done a spit-take before. He didn’t think they actually happened in real life, but that was before he sprayed coffee all over the foot-worn, matted brown carpet in front of him.

“Dude,” he whispers.

“What?” Cas frowns.

“Here?” Dean asks, gesturing very obviously to Gabriel, who has now left his post behind the counter in the deserted coffee shop and now leans against Castiel’s counter.

“Hello, gents,” Gabriel greets with a fake tip of his cap. “Whatsoever could you two be talking about?”

“Gabriel, this is private,” Cas insists.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Gabe shrugs.

“Plus it’s not like you can keep a secret anyway, baby,” Dean says.

“I can, in fact, keep a --”

“Cassie, I knew about your sexy choking thing like five minutes after you discovered it,” Gabriel butts in, “Wait, does Dean know about your sexy choking thing?”

“Not until recently,” Dean snorts.

Something in his tone makes Cas do that weird, narrow-eyed pout thing that he does approximately five seconds before he says, “Well, I didn’t know about your sexy underwear thing until recently, so I believe we’re even on that front, Dean Winchester.”

Immediately, blood flares to Dean’s face, though not at the thought of Gabe knowing about the panties thing -- Gabe kind of has a weird intuition about awkward sex crap in any case -- but because every time that he thinks of his panties, he thinks of Cas working him over in them and just how goddamned spectacular it was. Christ. Hopefully the rest of the kinks will be just as amazing as that.

“Personally, I think Dean screams sub,” Gabriel says, “Maybe you should try paddling him in a sling or something.”

“Gabe, fuck off,” Dean says, and returns his attention to Cas and his list to add the stipulation, “But I guess I wouldn’t mind spanking, maybe. That on your list?”

“I put it in ‘maybe’ as I wanted to discuss it with you first,” Castiel replies, and scrubs his eraser over his neat, all-caps handwriting, moving the word spanking to the space underneath an underlined ‘YES’. He quirks a smile up at Dean and says, “There. Perfect.”

“All right, you have my attention, big boy,” Dean says, “What else is on your magic list?”

“I’ve listed ‘video taping’ under ‘yes’,” Castiel says, “because I want to do it and it didn’t sound like something you wouldn’t like. Any objections?”

“None whatsoever,” Dean says. The idea of rewatching the shenanigans that they get up to between the sheets actually sounds pretty damn appealing.

Gabriel hums and says, “Really, Cas? Fisting?”

“Gabriel, stop reading over my shoulder!” Castiel complains.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Gabe says, and lifts his hands up in defense, “How about I make you kinky gentlemen some coffee before I clean out the machines? That way you can be nice and lucid for your kink negotiations. Establish a safeword now, motherfuckers.”

“Impala,” Dean says.

“Dean, we can’t use that,” Castiel replies.

Dean frowns, “Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re aroused by the sound of your car from time to time and it might come up,” Castiel says, “my personal vote is for ‘feather.’”

“That’s dumb.”

“No it is not.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“But we’ll remember it,” Castiel protests.

Dean rubs a hand over his temples and says, “Yeah, okay, fine. Feather it is.”

Castiel smiles that smug-ass little smile that the shit gets on his face when he knows that he’s gotten his way and says, “Excellent,” before writing the word ‘feather’ on his notepad, underlining it, and circling it several times.

“Now,” Castiel turns his attention back to him, spine straight and legs crossed, “What is your opinion on cock rings?”

“Are those the ones that you put on while you’re soft, and,” Dean mimes squeezing his dick.

“Yes,” Cas smiles at the gesture.

“Yeah, I could give those a shot,” he nods and peers at the list. “Dude, does that say orgasm denial?”

“Yes,” Cas’ cheeks turn a little pink for the first time that night. “I’d like to try it.”

“Okay,” Dean nods, not quite getting it. “For me or you?”

“Me being denied by you,” Castiel clarifies.

Dean nods and drapes his arm over Cas’ shoulder, “Good enough for me.” He presses a kiss to Cas’ temple and gratefully takes a cup of coffee from Gabe when he returns.

“Threesomes,” Gabe reads upside down. “You horn dogs.”

“We’ve talked about that one before,” Cas now shields his paper from Gabriel, as though he’s back in grade school.

“That one’s lingerie,” Dean points out. “We already, uh… did that one.”

Gabriel realizes he’s being stared at and puts his hands up in surrender.

“I heard nothing,” he walks back into the coffee shop.

“And those were just panties,” Castiel clarifies. “I was thinking something more,” he ponders for a moment before he decides on, “Science Fiction Double Feature.”

“Aw,” Dean strokes Cas’ cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Baby made a pop culture reference. You can go ahead and cross that one off your list.”

Castiel flips him off.

“Okay, okay, lingerie,” Dean laughs. “Yes.”

“What about voyeurism?” Cas asks, still managing to sound damn near professional. Dean sees that Gabriel is waiting patiently for an answer, innocent smile on his face.

“Like, us watching someone else?” Dean tries to ignore him.

“Or, us being watched?” Castiel offers.

A little weird, but, “Sure.”

He once thought a guy wearing panties was super weird.

Look how that turned out.

Dean sips some of his coffee and sets it down on the counter with an appreciative grunt. He didn’t know when he pulled over to help some poor car-stupid dude that the card for Holy Grounds would lead him to three of his very favorite things: his fucking awesome boyfriend, a sweet collection of vinyl, and perfect cups of well-roasted coffee. He can’t help but grin at Cas over the neatly organized list of kinks.

Whoa, wait a second.

“Cock cages?” Dean says, “What the hell is that?”

“They keep you contained...soft,” Castiel says, “I thought maybe we could --”

“Nope,” Dean says.

Castiel says, “All right. No to cock cages.” He scratches the words out from under the ‘maybe’ list and Dean feels an embarrassing sense of relief.

He likes being bossed around. Cas already knows that much. It’s not like they never talked about kinks at all before. They just...didn’t do it in depth. But Dean knows that Cas likes biting and being bitten, and Cas knows that sometimes Dean likes filthy shit whispered in his ear when he’s getting worked over, and maybe sometimes he likes to get called names when he takes it rough, as long as Cas holds him after and rubs his back and kisses him all sweet.

So maybe he’s kind of a sap.

“I thought maybe we might want to explore your natural submissiveness,” Castiel says.

Gabriel sputters out a laugh from across the way at the barista station.

“Cas,” Dean says, and this time his face does burn, “Do you have to say that in front of your brother?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Cas says, like this is something that everyone understands. Sometimes it seems like Cas is on some other plane of humanity. At times this makes it feel like Cas doesn’t understand basic shit (like not having seen Star Wars when they met), but other times Cas seems to be on a level that other people should be on -- a level of acceptance that some people just don’t get.

“Personally, I think it’s a relief to know there’s a scenario where you’re not a man’s man machismo dickhead.”

“Gabriel!” Cas snaps, and then looks back at Dean. “Please don’t pay attention to him. He’ll think he’s winning.”

“Hey, what about scat!” Gabriel calls.

“Fuck no!” Dean exclaims just as Cas shakes his head, “Absolutely not.”

Gabriel’s cackle echoes off of the coffee machines and the linoleum floor of the coffee shop. Dean looks at Cas’ list again and sees ‘choking’ at the top of the “yes” column. All this kinky talk has got him all hot under his collar. He checks Castiel’s watch.

“Hey!”

“Yeah, I’m goin’ nuts, here,” Dean explains. “We can add more to this later, right?”

“Of course,” Cas sets down his pencil. “I don’t have to submit it to the Federal Board of Kinky Sex Exploration until the end of April. There’s plenty of time.”

Dean rolls his eyes and flicks Cas right on his bicep. “C’mon, Gabe can close up.”

“Gabe?” Cas asks. “Are you all right with that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabe waves him off. “Go forth, bone. I’ll clean up.”

“Thank you!” Cas says and slides off of his stool. He grabs his legal pad in one hand and Dean’s wrist in the other.

“Have fun storming the asshole,” Gabe waves them off. Dean flips him off, but mostly for Cas’ sake because damn it, that was solid.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, for the most part. Dean turns on the radio, but he can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the long, pale column of Cas’ throat, lightly stubbled and undulating under each bob of his Adam’s apple.

And he wants Dean to grab it and squeeze.

They aren’t dumb about this, Cas in particular. They know it’s toeing the line between insanely hot and insanely deadly. Dean stayed up late the other night reading articles on his phone while Cas snored softly beside him.

Apparently it’s not the actual deprivation of oxygen that’s the turn on, but the vulnerability that comes with it, the total rescinding of control.

The thought makes Dean squirm in his seat.

They get back to the apartment and don’t even bother with the elevator. Dean takes to the stairs like a man on a mission, stopping a flight and a half up to catch his breath. Castiel breezes right on by him, throwing him a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Damn it,” Dean huffs and redoubles his efforts.

He’s gotta start running with Cas or something, or at the very least lay off the double bacon cheeseburgers.

Dean catches Cas at the door of their apartment, wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist as he slides his key into the lock. Their neighbor across the way, Chuck, chooses that moment to leave his apartment and lets out a groan.

“Can’t you guys even make it in the door anymore?” he sighs.

“We didn’t think you’d be home so early from your poetry slam,” Dean retorts, and Castiel stifles a chuckle into his hand.

“It’s a Contemporary Poets Forum, you raging dick,” Chuck bites back, “And, uh… no one was there.”

That’s kind of a shame.

Not as shameful as Dean actually feeling bad when he sees Chuck’s dejected puppy face. What else is a creative writing professor supposed to do on his Saturday nights?

Cas gets the door open and turns back an awkward grin at Chuck.

“I’d stay and talk,” he explains, “But we’re going to go have sex now.”

“Cas!” Dean snorts and pulls him inside the apartment, shutting the door just with enough time left to hear Chuck mutter, “dicks” under his breath.

They kiss against the front door, and it’s fucking heavenly. The first time that Cas and Dean ever kissed Dean swears he saw God, because shit, Cas can kiss. It was more than that, though -- Dean tends to swing toward ladies, but every so often a wily bastard with a scruffy jaw and a sweet ass will wriggle through there. Cas was one of those, but that first kiss was the first time that Dean ever thought that, holy shit, he could do this forever.

Cas’ stubble scrapes along his face and his lips and tongue taste amazing. Dean’s already half-hard in his pants. He thinks about the panties, how he came harder than he had in forever. Christ, he wants to be able to give that to Cas.

“C’mon,” Dean says, and closes his fingers around Cas’ wrist, tugging him toward the bedroom.

Truth be told, he’s kind of nervous about this. He wants the chance to make Cas feel good the way that Cas made Dean feel, but breathplay, man. They made sure to read up on it because Dean was and continues to be fucking antsy about hurting Cas.

He will not break his boyfriend, goddamnit.

“Dean,” Cas breathily says against Dean’s mouth, “Dean, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

Dean grins, nerves subsiding just for a second as he steps back and shucks his jacket and toes off his boots. Castiel does the same, kicking off his Very Sensible Sneakers and peeling his Sgt. Pepper t-shirt over his head.

Dean gets that all too familiar itch in his fingertips as he reaches out to touch Cas’ chest. He skims his hands over the familiar plane, and down to where he can hook his fingers into Cas’ belt loops and pull him forward.

“Still far too many clothes,” Cas tuts and quickly divests Dean of his Metallica shirt before he deems him acceptable. He pulls Dean forward by the back of the neck and meets him in a heated, bruising kiss.

He snags Dean’s lower lip in his teeth in his excitement, just a little too hard to consider it a playful nip. Dean likes it, though, because it’s not like it hurts, and it makes Cas squirmy and too hot in his skin.

It’s nice when you know you can do that to someone.

Dean kisses down the column of Castiel’s throat, teasing his tongue over tendons and veins and the hard scratch of stubble, all the way down to the hollow of his throat.

He skims his hand from where it rests on Cas’ hip up his side and over his chest, until he’s got Cas loosely by the shoulder. He strokes a soft thumb over the sensitive skin just under his jaw and back down again to the little hollow space above his clavicle.

He presses his thumb gently into that little dip and smiles as Castiel takes a great big shuddering breath.

All right.

They’re going to do this.

Dean thinks he might be nervous because it’s easier for him to take the risk of pain than to apply it to Cas. He likes being bossed around in bed and isn’t quite as used to being the one doing the bossing. But he and Cas both read up on this, he keeps telling himself, and they both know how they’re going to do it this time.

Thing about breathplay, they’ve learned, is that you’ve got a life in your hands and if you fuck up what you’re doing, things can get real ugly, real fast. There’s vulnerable stuff in the throat, and if you press down on the wrong thing, you’ll go beyond hurting somebody and straight into actually fucking killing them.

So maybe that’s why Dean is so nervous about this.

When Cas had his experience with his ex-girlfriend in college, Meg shoved her hand over his mouth. Cas says he could still breath a little through his nose, but the restriction of airflow was enough that he came harder than he could ever remember having come before (“Hey, what about me?” “Before I met you, Dean.”).

Dean doesn’t like the idea of starting out by using something to gag Cas’ mouth, like duct taping over it or tying something around his head. He actually thinks he might like to do that for himself, and told Cas as much when they were slung over each other on the couch with a webpage on breathplay pulled up on Cas’ laptop screen.

First, the rest of the clothes have got to go. It’s hard to remember that this is supposed to be a sexy thing when he’s got so much hanging on this, but he knows Cas gets it. Cas doesn’t tell him to hurry up or get on with it when Dean procures their lube and coats his fingers, propping Cas’ legs up and open so that he can reach and brush his fingertips across his hole.

Castiel does, however, suck in  a breath.

Thing about this is -- Dean and Cas switch all the time. Sometimes folks get the idea that when two dudes are doing it that whoever’s taking the dick is in a permanent state of always taking the dick. And okay, yeah, Dean likes being on bottom better ‘cause he likes letting go of the control and letting Cas take over, but that doesn’t mean he’s never gonna work his boyfriend over and fuck him into jelly.

Playing Dom...that’s another story.

Dean works his fingers into Cas carefully, like he always does. He likes it when Cas gets rough with him and maybe doesn’t stretch him quite enough so that there’s just enough of a pleasant, stinging burn for him to enjoy. Cas isn’t like that. He doesn’t like the pain the way that Dean does, which is why it’s so fucking weird that he wants Dean to cut off his air supply.

Who the hell even knows -- kinks are weird.

“You’re doing -- ah -- a good job, Dean,” Castiel says, words broken up with labored breaths. He’s starting to ride back on Dean’s hand a little, rocking his hips to take more of Dean’s fingers when Dean pushes into him.

God, he is so fucking sexy.

Dean wets his lips, “You good?”

Cas nods, but still lets out a small noise of disappointment when Dean’s fingers slide out of him. He has to reach over to their nightstand again to grab a condom. The expiration date on the packet he grabs still hasn’t hit, despite the fact that this box has been in here for a long while, even for them.

So Cas doesn’t like having come in his ass.

Nobody’s perfect.

Personally, Dean’s found that it’s one of the most erotic feelings in the world. Cas can flinch and fake gag at the notion all he wants, but in the end Dean knows what’s what.

He rolls the condom over himself, sighing at the relieving pressure of his hand on his dick. A little more lube over himself and he pulls Cas forward by the thick of his thighs, until he’s all cozied up and pushing inside him.

Cas lets out a loud groan and grabs the bedsheets in one hand, and Dean’s wrist with the other.

Dean goes nice and slow, letting Cas adjust before he dips down and kisses him on the end of his nose.

“Hey,” Cas lets out a breathy laugh and, fuck, tightens around Dean in retaliation.

“Fucker,” Dean gasps, and bends to scrape his teeth through the stubble on Cas’ neck.

Slow, simple thrusts while Dean peppers Cas’ neck and jaw with kisses. The slight hitch in Cas’ breath when Dean hits a good spot, and the satisfied moan when he does it again.

Dean moves a hand from where it’s braced on the mattress and palms lightly over Cas’ cock where it rests against his taut, lean stomach, and then up his chest and to his neck. No pressure, just a light laying on of his hand and, holy fuck, Cas arches up and tightens around Dean again, robbing Dean of a lungful of air as well.

“Holy fuck, baby,” Dean removes his hand, hips picking up the pace.

“More,” Cas commands. “More. Come on, you’re being such good boy, give me some more.”

Dean lets out a whimper and rests his forehead on Cas’ shoulder.

“Come on,” Cas goads again, voice still somehow commanding with Dean’s cock all the way inside him. “Good little sluts get to come if they do as they’re told,” he reminds Dean, “Now fucking do it.”

Holy shit. They’ve talked about this -- the name-calling thing. It was probably the first slightly off-kilter thing that Cas discovered gets Dean all hot under his skin, though it fell in line with Dean discovering Cas’ penchant for biting, so it’s hard to say what came first.

Luckily, Cas isn’t the kind of guy that hesitates, at least as far as the bedroom goes. He knows what he wants and he gets what he wants and Dean gives Cas what he wants because it makes both of them really fucking happy.

Dean presses his hands down into the mattress and starts picking up the pace for a few, solid thrusts, right before he lifts up his hand and rests the inside of his palm right where Cas’ neck meets his chin. He hears Cas inhale just before he commands, “Do it.”

Dean presses up and out like they read that they’re supposed to do. He watches Cas’ lips part, looking surprised and pleased and then more and more and more lost as Dean keeps the constant pressure on that one spot.

When Dean lifts his hand away, Cas takes in a gasping breath and arches up for more. He’s getting close -- fast, for Cas. Usually he can hold on to an orgasm forever and torture Dean with the ability until they’re both limp-limbed and sacked out. But this...this is new. Dean grins as he keeps his steady pace inside Cas and then nestles his palm at that point again, gently pressing.

Cas’ face starts to turn redder and his eyes go wide, and Christ, he looks so turned on that Dean almost forgets to let up a little on the pressure on Castiel’s neck. He gasps in when Dean lets up and pants out, “Yes. Fuck. Yes, Dean. Good.”

Dean whimpers and frames Cas’ head with his forearms, sinking down further so they’re close and sticking together and Cas’ cock is sandwiched between them. Cas groans and throws his head back, red marks blotching up his neck. Dean tilts his head and kisses every single one of them.

“Dean,” Cas braces himself against the headboard, fingernails biting into the warm, worn out wood. He rides back against Dean and lets out all of these gorgeous, unbelievably erotic sounds.  Dean watches Castiel’s Adam’s apple bob under his skin and god, he’s trying so hard to hold on. Well, Dean can put an end to that. He positions his hand on Cas’ neck, same as before, just one more time.

“God, fuck!” Cas cries out, muscles going tense as he comes between their bellies. He yanks Dean by the hair and pulls him down into a bruising, bitey kiss, riding it out hard. Dean isn’t far behind, but he doesn’t want to.

Not yet.

“Fuck, Dean,” Cas pants, not letting up riding back. “You did so -- so good.”

Dean whimpers, still thrusting, still teetering on the edge but not letting himself go over.

“Go ahead,” Cas purrs against his lips. “You can go.”

Dean’s orgasm hits him hard.  It takes all the air out of his lungs, and still he drives forward hard enough to move Cas up the bed.

They fall together all tangled up and covered in sweat and Cas’ come. They breathe each other in, steadying enough so that Dean can stand up and toss the condom in the trash can. He catches a glimpse of Cas over on the bed, limbs sprawled out and looking sated, relaxed.  He smiles and runs his hands through his damp, sweaty hair before falling back into the nest of blankets and wrapping his arms around Cas.

“How you doin’, baby?” he asks and presses a kiss to Cas’ jaw.

“I am...very good,” Cas replies, and then casts Dean a sly look, “It also would appear that you’re still submissive, even when you’ve got your cock up my ass and your hand on my throat.”

Dean smacks Cas’ arm and mutters, “Shut up,” but curls up into his side. The entire room reeks of sex and sweat and it’s kind of freaking awesome. He feels like he could lie here all day, just wrapped up in Cas’ arms and kissing along his skin absently, while Cas strokes fingers down Dean’s spine. Yeah, this is the life.

He can feel Cas start to fade out against him, breath starting to go even, and realizes that neither of them ate dinner -- they just went straight for the sex. Dean nudges Cas shoulder with his chin and says, “Hey, did you eat lunch at work?”

“I had a yogurt,” Cas mumbles.

“Jesus, dude, that doesn’t count,” Dean sighs, “Come on, up and at ‘em. We need to feed you.” He swears, if Dean had never pulled over to help Cas with his car that day, Cas would have slowly wasted away from forgetting to eat.

“I don’t want to move,” Castiel complains, and Dean shifts up onto his knees to start rolling Cas off of the edge of the mattress.

Cas whines but catches himself right before he tips off of the bed, stumbling naked and catching himself with a hand against the wall. Dean pulls on his underwear first and wets a wad of toilet paper to mop up the mess on Cas’ abdomen. Poor dude looks like he’s going to keel over from exhaustion, but that’s probably also because he’s eaten nothing but a container of yogurt at lunchtime. Dean throws a pair of Cas’ underwear at him and Cas catches them -- albeit barely -- before sticking his legs through the bottom and following Dean into the kitchen.

There, Dean heats up the barbeque pork that he made a couple of nights ago and dishes them each a healthy serving in their finest plastic bowls.

Unsurprisingly, Cas digs in right away and eats like he’s a starving man that’s been trapped in the desert for a month.

“What do you think we should try next?” Dean asks.

Cas gives a contemplative hum and swallows his bite before he says, “I think we should try something that you would like. I got mine, now I’d like to give you yours. Do you remember which ones that you liked best out of our list?”

Dean pauses eating and moves a piece of pork to the other side of his plate. He gnaws on his lower lip and feels his cheeks heat up, even though they’ve already done so much of this stuff already. He rubs at the back of his neck and keeps his eyes down on his bowl as he mumbles, “The...uh. The spanking thing sounded, ah. Nice.”

When he glances back up, Cas has an empty bowl in front of him and a mile-wide smirk on his face.

“What?” Dean says.

“Nothing,” Castiel replies, and leans over, resting his elbows on the table to level mischievous blue eyes at Dean, “Just having intricate fantasies of bending you over my lap and turning your ass red. That’s all.”

If Dean thought that he couldn’t get another erection after the sexathon they had only minutes ago, then he was dead, dead wrong.

 


End file.
